


Chess Pieces

by ballerinaroy



Series: awfully dark for a children's series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Loss, M/M, Multi, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 05:12:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16847785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: They were children raised as soldiers. They weren’t expected to survive the war.Companion piece to just let me dream.





	Chess Pieces

Ron was the first of them to die. He did it so deliberately, without so much of an ounce of hesitation, that in the months after Harry was convinced that Ron had been planning it all along. In the middle of an ambush, wand blasted from his hand, one moment Ron was at his side, fighting towards Hermione so they could make their escape and in the next Harry was shoved forward with such force that he crashed into Hermione’s body upon landing.

Immediately, Harry had wanted to go back. His brain could not comprehend the notion there was even a possibility that Ron could be dead. Even after seeing the blinding green light engulf his body. Even after seeing the determination leave his eyes. It took all of Hermione’s strength to stop him. With tears streaming down her face and hands that would not stop trembling, she worked as quickly and diligently as ever to perform their protection spells in order to keep him safe.

“We have to go back,” he demanded, stalking her around the musty wooded area she had taken them to. “We have to go back Hermione, we can’t just leave him there.”

“It won’t change anything,” Hermione told him through gasping sobs, “It’s over.”

 

For weeks, whenever Harry closed his eyes he could only see Ron’s face alight with determination and fear as the green light took over his body and he went crashing to the ground. He awoke screaming Ron’s name, tears streaming down his face as the last memory of his best friend washed over him. It haunted him.

 

“He was always going to do it,” Hermione said out of the blue one dusk as she stared into a half-empty glass of whiskey. “Don’t you remember when we were eleven on the chessboard?” she looked up at Harry as if he were a stranger and she was uncomfortable sitting so close to him. “He was always going to sacrifice himself for you if it came to it.”

This did nothing to help the growing ball of guilt in Harry’s chest, eating away at him. One day he was going to have to tell Mrs. Weasley how it happened. How could he explain what Ron had done for them?

“I’m sorry,” he offered, but it was more of a cry than a formation of words.

She stared at him for a long moment, finished her glass, and then got to work.

 

When Harry saw Ron for the final time in the forest he wore the grin that was in all of Harry’s fondest memories.

There was only one thought on his mind, one question that had never been satisfied.“Did you know?”

The not solid form of Ron nodded and smirked. “I taught you chess, didn’t I? You have to make calculated losses if you stand a chance at winning.”

For some time Harry had the gnawing feeling that he had been a piece in a greater game. To hear Ron make himself into one too did not make Harry feel any better.

“We weren’t going to make it out mate,” Ron continued patiently as if explaining something that should have been obvious to Harry. “We couldn’t have gone on without you and if it was between you or me it had to be me. It’s what we agreed to, Hermione and me, it’s what we promised. Our job was to keep you safe, our job was to get you here.”

This did not explain how Ron could have possibly been so brave in a moment when Harry was so completely terrified.

 

Hermione’s death was much more deliberate.

 

Harry had never considered losing one of them, but with Ron gone he braced himself with what seemed inevitable, there was no guarantee they would survive this war. Hermione didn’t sleep. Every time Harry awoke she was sitting there, writing furiously into a journal or reading heavy books with such vigor that Harry worried her head might explode with the information she absorbed. No longer did Hermione want to make conservative moves towards victory, she was thirsty for blood and revenge and consumed with the loss of the person she’d loved completely but now could never be with.

They never stopped moving, each day a different task and new mission. Intelligence which made Harry’s head spin was tracked in Hermione’s books. When they came across Death Eaters they made no attempts to hide. In the game of cat and mouse, they were the predators. The first deliberate killing made Harry feel sick and as if he could physically feel his soul detecting though his wand did none of the spell work. Hermione never let him.

“We have to keep you pure.” She told him as they scavenged through the belongings of their latest target.

Harry didn’t quite understand what she meant but felt as though he lacked the bloodlust necessary to complete the task anyway. He lost track of how many times they killed. Somewhere in the many books, Hermione kept he knew there was a list but he didn’t care to look for it. There was always another for them to hunt. One less Death Eater meant one less threat to watch over their shoulders for.

 

“Promise me you’ll destroy my body Harry,” she would tell him in the few moments she could look at him.

Since Ron’s death, they had hardly spoken. Every line out of their mouths was about strategy and what they’d learned. By sheer force alone, Hermione seemed to be speeding up the war. What was left of the Horcruxes, the cup in their bag and the last in their sights, were all but destroyed. It seemed, however, that Hermione’s bloodlust wouldn’t be satisfied and always she was coming up with another target.

“We could go and end this,” he told her, wanting nothing more than for this war, which had already stolen the thing he would miss most, to end.

“One more mission,” she told him and he had a sinking feeling about her latest target. “Then to Hogwarts. It’ll be something of Ravenclaws, you should go and talk to her ghost, maybe Luna or Padma will be able to help you. Get the sword back if you can, if not then the fangs are your best bet.”

Harry did not miss that she hadn’t said “we” once while giving him instructions. Looking back he should have known she wouldn’t be with him. Harry supposed he out to have tried to convince her out of what she wanted to do, tried harder to find the words to force her to focus on their mission. Only he wanted revenge too.

 

Hermione’s last kill was of the woman who’s wand killed the man she had loved. Once it was completed, Harry could almost see her body physically relax and surrender. He understood her request as he watched them tear her apart. It took hours for her to die. Harry watched from the rafters of the Lestrange Mansion as Rodolphus Lestrange exacted revenge for his slain wife. Harry wished to run, to depart, but made true to his promise and when the moment was right performed his first and final killing curse on the only person left whom he could trust.

 

In the forest, Hermione finally showed remorse for her actions. She begged Harry for forgiveness for what she’d forced him to do.

“I can’t take back what I’ve done,” Hermione said, “I should have never put you in that position Harry.”

“You’re the one that died,” he attempted to joke.

It was only later that Harry recognized the absurdity that in the moments before he was going to throw himself in front of Voldemort’s wand he was joking with his dead best friends.

 

When he turned to his mother and father, the fear in his chest was all but diminished. And when his Godfather assured him that death would be painless Harry found himself restless in wanting to end the journey and join his best friends in whatever would come next.

When Voldemort’s wand stoped his tattooing heart, it’s their greeting arms that wrap around him and surround him in warmth. For the first time in years, Harry felt whole. They tell him they’d been waiting for him at the station. Together, they boarded the train for their next great adventure.

 


End file.
